Burning Bright
by AutumnSkyy
Summary: It's hard to live up to the Mockingjay. I should know. I'm her daughter. Ivy Mellark struggles to find herself under the shadow of her mother, District 12's winning tribute. The Girl on Fire. The Mockingjay. Every thing she is not.
1. Chapter 1

BURNING BRIGHT

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games series

Chapter 1-

I hold the bow just like she taught me. The arrow poised against my fingers. My eyes quickly scan the forest until I spy my prey. A doe. My hands begin to shake and the branch below me begins to quiver. _Don't mess up! Don't mess up! Don't mess up!_ The branch cracks and the doe is off. I let the arrow escape and it flies quickly disappearing through the trees completely missing my prey. I stumble backwards but catch myself before I fall.

"Oh, come on!" I groan in frustration. "Are you kidding me?"

My outburst must have scared off all the animals in the area. I climb down from the tree and land on the ground with a soft thud. My boots are dirty from the forest ground and my hands red and scraped from climbing trees all morning. Its Saturday and like always I find myself out in the outskirts of District 12 practicing my hunting skills. But who am I kidding. I'll never be as good as mommy dearest.

I walk through the trees in the direction my arrow went. You'd think after years of practicing I'd be able to take down a small doe. But not even the Mockingjay's blood that runs through my veins can help me. I'm very much like my mother- or at least people say I am. I look much like her but I have my father's blue eyes. Something she says she loves. But I do not believe for one second that I am like my mother besides in looks. My mother is…well, how can I even begin to explain my mother? She's something of a legend throughout the districts. And I? I can't even walk a straight line. My mother can shoot down a flock of ducks in under five minutes. I trip on my own feet. My mother brought down the Capitol. I'm pretty sure I'm failing my physics class. It is pretty obvious. Still, people keep insisting we're almost the same person. Perhaps in looks but in hunting skills? I think I inherited from my father in that department.

I find my arrow embedded in a tree. It takes me a while before I manage to yank it back out. I sigh to myself, "At least I caught a tree." I try to laugh at my own misfortune but I only feel even more pathetic. I sling my bow over my shoulder and decide to head home- but not before going to my favorite spot. The meadow. Not only do I need the peace and tranquility but I need an excuse as to why I came home empty handed. And to think I'd stroll through town with that doe. I really fooled myself this time.

I sit on the meadow where my younger brother and I used to play as children. I know now that I sit upon a graveyard. In school we learned about the Rebellion and of course, the infamous Hunger Games. I know that my parents were a part of them. Together they won the 74th annual Hunger Games and led the rebellion that my mother unwillingly or unknowingly sparked. But what I do not know, are the details of their stories. The reasons why my mother wakes during the night screaming our names. Why my father must compose himself to fight back the flash backs that haunt him. Why there is the constant question of, "_Real or not real_?" echoed through the halls of my home.

I remember when I was little and would have nightmares my mom would come in to my room to calm me. Dad said I always cried for her even though he was better at comforting us. I guess it was because she was familiar with all those nightmares, herself. But I used to cry about silly things. Like monsters under my bed or strange men in the closet. Things that weren't half as terrifying as what my own parents had seen with their very own eyes.

Mom would sit down next to me and say, "Ivy, dreams can't hurt you. Real or not real?"  
I'd look at her with tear filled eyes and answer, "Real."  
"You are brave, real or not real?" I'd frown upon this question but she always smiled and said, "Real. You are very brave, little bird."

There never were any monsters under my bed or strange men in my closet. But they were present in my dreams and even more so in my mother's. I remember when I was five, I asked her if monsters existed. My question stumped her but at that age I could not comprehend why she couldn't answer me. Now I know. There are monsters, she's seen them. She just didn't have the heart to tell me.

I used to dance upon this graveyard. My brother struggled to keep up with me as our parents watched us. I smile at the memories of my childhood. And wish I was four years old again. I pick a flower from the ground. Mom used to make little crowns with them and place them on me. Dad used to pick me up in his arms and spin me around. They were the happiest moments of my life. Then when everything was calm my mom would begin to sing and all the birds would go silent.

After another moment of self pity, I stand to my feet and leave the meadow, my childhood memories behind with it. I make my way back to District 12 where I enter under the shabby fence. It had not been turned on for years but the people feel safer with it around. I guess old habits die hard. Not many people live in District 12, less then before the bombs destroyed it but more then when my mother first returned after the rebellion. Still, every single pair of eyes looks down at me expecting me to live up to her. My mother. District 12's winning tribute. The Girl on Fire. The Mockingjay. Every thing I am not. I walk pass the homes of the Seam and up to the Victor's Village where we live. Only two houses are occupied, however, Uncle Haymitch's house looks shabby and abandoned- like always. Dad's home as a victor is empty since he moved in with mom before they were even married. I often sneak in when I need time to myself.

When I arrive, I find my younger brother, Luke, sitting on the porch. He looks bored and somewhat anxious. "Hey," I say. Luke's eleven. Four years younger then me.  
He looks up at me with his gray Seam eyes. Eyes of our mother. "Hey." he answers.  
I fix my empty bag over my shoulder, "What are you doing out here?"

Luke is everything an eleven-year-old boy pretty much is. Rambunctious with a knack of getting in to mischief. So I'm not surprised that he's out here. He must have gotten in to some trouble and dad was bound to come out and give him a good talking to. He leans his lanky body back. His blond hair is shaggy and getting long to the point where mom keeps brushing his bangs out of his face. Dad then jokes about taking him to her stylists back in the Capitol. "Peeta!" Mom gasps, "Not even as a joke." Dad only laughs.

"Dad asked me to wait for him here."  
"Oh no," I sigh, "What you do this time?"  
"Nothing." He mumbles hiding his eyes. Lies.  
I raise my brow at him, "Seriously."  
Luke groans throwing a pebble he had been holding in his hand, "I was playing in Uncle Haymitch's backyard."

There it is. A sole purpose to send my mother on a rampage. She worries about us a lot but I could not blame her. Uncle Haymitch's backyard is somewhere I dare not go. Not with his flock of killer geese ready to attack at any moment. Does he even feed those things? They are probably starving for the taste of human flesh by now. I swear it could be a perfect arena for the games if they still existed.

"I thought she warned you to stay out of there. You didn't kill a goose with that slingshot of yours, did you?"  
"No!" He retorts, "I didn't kill a goose." He buries his cheeks in his hands. His pink lips pout slightly.  
I laugh and ruffle his messy blond hair, "Good luck. You'll need it."  
"Well, if I had killed an animal then at least that makes one of us!" He calls back.  
This makes me come to a complete halt, "What?"  
"Pfft, who are you kidding, Ivy? You couldn't shoot a rabbit if it was hanging right in front of you."  
"You little weasel." I grab him by the shirt completely offended by his comment.

Luke isn't particularly fond of the bow, he'd rather shoot things with the sling shot Uncle Haymitch gave him for his eighth birthday. Something my mother completely dreaded. No vase or window survived that year. Still, the little punk has a better shot with that thing then I do with my bow.

"Ivy." I hear my name in a stern voice and look to see my father standing at the door. His arms are crossed and his brow is lifted at me. I let Luke go and smile, "Hey dad."  
He chuckles, "Hi Ivy. How'd it go?"  
Luke laughs and I elbow him, "Fine."  
"Catch anything?" He asks but I know he knows I didn't.  
"Didn't try to." I lie.

Dad only smiles and walks over to me planting a kiss on my head, "Alright. I left you some cheese buns in the kitchen in case you're hungry."  
"Thanks, Dad." I say and head inside leaving dad to tend to Luke. Its then I hear him begin, "Alright, mister." but the rest is muffled when the sweet smell of cheese buns fill my nose. I had left so early I didn't catch breakfast, heck, I didn't catch anything. Just a tree.

Dad rebuilt his parent's bakery back in town. He bakes and paints. Mom teaches a survival class at the school. I was her student one year. It…it was quite embarrassing. I'm not sure which one of us was more embarrassed though. And I hated the way everyone expected me to pass that class. Either because the Mockingjay was my mother and I had obviously inherited her skills or she would just pass me because I _was_ her daughter. Neither, I passed because I worked hard at it. I earned it.

It is then my mom walks in to the kitchen. She holds a piece of rope in her hands. She uses it to calm down after some sort of episode. I'm pretty sure Luke brought this one on. It takes her a moment to realize I'm sitting there with my cheeks filled with cheese bun. "Ivy." she says surprised to see me. I guess she hadn't expected me home so early. "You're home early." Mom is still young and beautiful as ever. True, years of night terrors and old scars have worn her down but she still finds a way to shine. Even if she denies it. I did not have the heart to tell her I grew tired of failing so I came home early to bury my feelings with bread and sweets.

I swallow my bread, "Yeah, I-" but I could not find an excuse. Mom could see right through lies as if they were water. She saw my sad attempt at covering up my failures but before she could say anything Luke and dad came in to the kitchen.

"Now, you'll go apologize to him today before dinner, alright Luke?"  
Luke sighs defeated, "Alright."  
Dad looks to mom and sighs, "No slingshot for a month."

I take this opportunity to jump to my feet and escape before my parents begin to drill me with any more questions. I hurry up to my room upstairs at the end of the hall. I close my door, drop my empty bag on the floor and fall back on my bed. When I was little, my dad painted the forest on my walls along with cute little animals and a beautiful blue sky. His paintings were beautiful and I never had the heart to paint over them. No matter how old I get. I look to the Mockingjay he painted on a branch and sigh. Nor could I ever paint over the Mockingjay that watches me so closely.


	2. Chapter 2

Burning Bright

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games

Chapter 2

Monday rolls around before I know it. Luke and I walk to school together. He complains about his sling shot all the way there. I'm still not sure what he did to get in trouble but dad was pretty firm on keeping his punishment. He's usually the first one to give in. Mom is much harder when it comes to discipline. When she says no, it means no. Dad's more of a softy. He used to spoil us rotten as children. So I guess I can see why Luke's a little out of control.

"Just behave yourself," I tell him as we approach the school.  
"I do." He says.  
"No, you don't." I retort, "You're always up to something. If you behave dad will lift your punishment."  
Luke groans and makes a face. I laugh and ruffle his blond hair, "You'll be fine. Now go to class before you're late again. Don't give dad another reason to punish you."  
"Alright. Meet you after school?" He asks.  
I smile, "Like always." I shoo him off in the direction of his class before he's late again.

Luke goes off reassured. Luke's always been an independent kid but he constantly runs in to trouble with other kids; much like I did when I was younger. About two years ago he got in to an after school fight with some boy from the merchant side of town because he said something regarding the bombs that destroyed District 12. It must have been bad because comments like those almost never faze Luke. Except this time. His gray eyes filled with angry tears as I had to yank him off the poor kid. Mom and dad now make sure I walk him home so he won't get in to any trouble. And in a way, I know he's grateful. Kids won't mess with him when I'm around. But I'm sure they tease him behind my back. Pfft, just let them say something in front of me…Still, I'm sure the comment of bombs still have him a little on the edge.

I make my way through the hall. I can feel eyes land on me as I pass by. Some look at me with curiosity, others just completely avoid me. My eyes scan the hall for my best friend, but he's no where to be found. Instead I head to class early. History. My favorite…  
I sit in the back seat, my eyes trained on the window outside. I'd rather be out in the woods right now failing at hunting then failing at math. At least the deer won't run off and tell my parents what a failure I am. And that's how my day usually goes. Teachers filling our minds with what feels like useless information. History class is filled with nothing but the Games, the Rebellion and the fall of the Capitol with a few updates of what President Paylor is up to now a days and how she has helped the Capitol progress. When my teacher, Mrs. Ackerman asks a question about either of the topics she looks to me first as if I have the answer to everything. Not to boast but I do, I know these stories like the back of my hand. I have been hearing them since I could make sense of words. Still, this special attention only sends me dirty looks from my peers. Last month, she assigned us to write a paper about the Hunger Games and our opinion on them and how the District's have progressed without them. As a plus, Mrs. Ackerman had me write an extra piece on what I would have done in my mother's place in the Games. She meant no harm, was only curious to know how the Mockingjay's daughter would do to survive in the arena. Mrs. Ackerman was one of the few who survived the bombs and was evacuated to District 13 with her mother and two older siblings. She always admired my mother so having me in her class was some sort of excitement for her. But to be quite honest, I had no idea how to even begin that paper. If I was in my mother's place I probably would have cried and gotten myself killed. End of story. But surely not the end of the Games.

Before I head to the cafeteria to meet up with my best friend, Evan I head to the girls restroom. I don't need to go but I could sure use the peace and tranquility of a safe place. The janitor now locks the door to the supply closet since I've been caught ditching class in there several times. So the last stall in the girl's restroom is my current hiding place until I find a new place. I'm cradled on the seat when the door opens and a small group of girls walk inside. I can't see them but I recognize their voices. They're girls from the merchant side of town. One of them moved here from District 1 a few years ago. Her names Daisy. I can't remember her last name. I don't particularly like her. She walks around with a sneer on her face like she's smelling something awful. Her brother is one of the boys whose gotten in to it with Luke; the one who really set him off. I guess her brother being a total "goon" -as Luke calls him- gives her a reason to dislike me. It honestly does not bother me at all. Her dislike of my little brother or me doesn't leave me restless at night.

"I can't stand her." She says.  
Why do I feel like she's talking about me?  
"Do you see the way Mrs. Ackerman always gives her special treatment. Its just because she's the Mockingjay's daughter."  
That's because she is.  
"I bet if it wasn't for that she'd be a nobody. Just a shadow. She's not as good as they say she is. Not good enough to be the Mockingjay, anyway."

The words hit me and my fists tighten instantly. One of her friend laughs in agreement. The other one doesn't laugh, just gives a short soft chuckle. I could feel the very familiar anger rising inside me and I feel seven years old again. Cornered and wounded. Their laughter is cut short when I push the stall door open. All three of them jump when they see me standing there. Daisy's jaw drops as if she just got caught cheating. She stumbles to find words and her friends freeze.

"Ladies," I say as I walk casually by them and out of the restroom; fighting the urge to lunge at them all the way there. I hold my composure but by the time the restroom door closes behind me I feel myself falter and my ears go boiling hot. The tears begin to blur my vision but I don't stop. I fight the tears back and walk down the hall with my chin up high. I make my way to the cafeteria where I'm engulfed by loud conversations and trays clanking. I don't even have to look to know where my safety line is. I spy him right away at the end of the cafeteria sitting at the table in the farthest corner. I head to him quickly before I crumble in front of everyone.

"Hey, Ivy." Evan smiles at me as soon as he sees me. Evan is pretty much the only friend I have in the entire school. His mom and my dad used to play together as children. We did too so now that we are older he isn't really intimidated by who my mom is. Evan used to be teased a lot by our classmates when we were younger because he was kind of chubby. I ended up in the principal's office a lot because I couldn't stand how cruel other kids were to him, just like I couldn't stand how they treated me. Needless to say, my parents came to visit the school a lot back then. Evan slimmed down a lot since then but names seem to have a bad habit of sticking around. We aren't really everyone's cup of tea. But I don't care. Having a lot of friends is something that does not interest me much.

"Hey, Evan." I take a seat across from him.  
"Who spilled your cup of milk?" he asks knowing something is wrong right away. Being inseparable during our childhood, Evan knows me almost as much as I know myself. And that alone freaks me out a bit. He has a way of picking up on things that are invisible to the naked eye. Kind of the way my dad is with my mom. He just knows.  
I look in to his green eyes. The more I look at them the more they remind me of brilliant emeralds. For some strange reason, I always found comfort in his eyes.  
"Nothing, I'm fine." I wave his worry away.  
Its then the girls from the bathroom walk in to the cafeteria. They look at me and turn to whisper and gossip amongst each other. Evan catches this and looks to me, "You want me to avenge you?"  
I look to him, "And what are you going to do, Mr. Stryder? Throw bread at them?"  
Evan shakes his head, "Ivy, you know those loaves go hard if you leave them out long enough."  
I give him a soft smile, "Evan, its fine. Really."  
"Its not fine, Ivy. Not fine at all." Evan is extremely bothered by this.

Ever since Evan lost all his baby weight and had his growth spurt a lot of girls are starting to notice him. I don't know why but that bothers me. They did not care for him when he was chubby so why should he notice them now? And I know for a fact none of them would admit to finding him attractive. They are too interested in their reputations. I am not going to lie, Evan is extremely handsome with his bright green eyes and blond shaggy curls and his tall lean figure. But he's Evan. The pudgy kid who I used to run around with. He's my best friend. He will always be my best friend.

When school is finally over we meet Luke at our usual spot. He hurries to catch up with us. I can see a group of his friends wave a him goodbye as they go on their own ways. The three of us leave the school and make our way through town. Evan and I help my dad out at the bakery after school most days. Evan says he likes to bake but I would rather help decorate the cakes. Together we make quite the team. Luke usually joins us for a while before he gets bored and meets up with mom at home. I know he'd rather bet at home doing some shenanigan.

"Are you sure you'll be fine walking home by yourself?" I ask Luke before we arrive at the bakery.  
Luke looks in the direction of the Victor's Village. His gray eyes are uncertain but he nods, "Yeah, I'll be fine."  
"You sure? We can walk ya." Evan says.  
"No, I'm good." Evan gives us a smile.  
"Okay," I say, "But call dad at the bakery as soon as you get home." I say. Sometimes I sound a little too much like mom but I can't help to keep Luke out of trouble.  
"Okay!" He says as he waves goodbye and heads on his way home.

Evan and I watch him go for a moment before he turns to me, "Ivy," he says. I don't bother to look at him. He knows I'm listening. "You know I hate to see you like this. Don't listen to what those kids said. They don't know you like I do."  
"I know," I said, "I just don't like being referred to as a shadow is all."  
Evan places his hand on my shoulder and stops me, "You're not a shadow, Ivy. You never were."

I look in to his eyes finding that comfort again. I don't know how he does it. I really don't. "Thanks."  
He chuckles lightly taking a step back, "You're way too loud to be one anyway." he continues to walk.  
I pause for a moment processing his words. "Is that an insult at my hunting?" I follow after him. I can feel my cheeks burning red. Evan only laughs.

We don't take long to reach the bakery where my dad is already decorating a white and lavender cake.  
"Hey dad."  
"Hey Mr. Mellark."  
"Hey guys." he says taking his eyes off from his most recent creation, "How was school?"  
"Okay." Evan and I both answer heading to the back where we drop our things, wash our hands and put aprons on. I don't need to be at the bakery but I like to be. It keeps me busy and its not like I have better things to do. _You can use a little practice with that bow_, I think. I can but I rather be with dad and Evan right now.

So there in the bakery I forget all the whispers that flow through the halls. I forget the looks and stares of people waiting for me to do something amazing. I forget all the insults of the girls in the bathrooms. I forget it all. And I start to remember all the good times I spent here. Dad had already rebuilt the bakery by the time I was born. And when Luke was born dad used to bring me to work with him so mom could care for Luke without me being the whirlwind I was. She says I used to come home smelling like butter and sugar, "I wanted to eat you up." she says.  
I smile at the memory of all the days I spent making ginger bread men and weird shaped cookies. When Luke got a little older I would smear a mustache and beard of icing on his face. We would go home smelling sweet and sticky.

Evan and I stand outside while dad closes the bakery. The night air is fresh and the stars are bright. Evan takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets, "Its getting cold out." he comments looking down at his feet.  
"Yeah," I agree landing my eyes from the sky to him.  
He smiles, "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."  
I nod, "Yeah, tomorrow." I return the smile.  
"Goodnight, Mr. Mellark." he waves at my dad.  
"Goodnight, Evan." Dad waves back with a smile, "See you tomorrow?"  
"Yes, sir!" Evan chuckles lightly then turns to me again landing his eyes deep in to mine. A strange thinkative expression covers his face. Like he's lost in a deep argument with himself.  
I raise a brow at him, "You okay?"  
"Ah, yeah." he says chuckling nervously this time. "Well, goodnight Ivy."  
"Night, Evan." I say and watch as he retreats across the square and disappears in to the night.

"Ready?" Dad catches up with me.  
"Uh, yeah." I say.  
He smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulder, "Let's go home. Mom should have dinner ready by now."  
"Yum."

Dad and I walk in silence for a moment. I can tell he noticed my upset expression when I arrived at the bakery earlier today. Dad has a nose for picking up these things. He's had much practice with mom. But he knows it'll be a fight to get it out of me.

"Ivy," He begins. Oh no, here we go. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"  
I sigh, "Dad."  
But he smiles and continues, "You always have. Remember? My little Jabberjay?" he teases.

I frown at my old nickname. When I was little, uncle Haymitch compared me to a Jabberjay because I would talk too much, ask too many questions and repeat everything he or my parents said. Dad thought it was funny and nicknamed me his little Jabberjay but mom didn't like it. Calling me after the mutts in the arena. So dad stopped.

He laughs, "You were quite the chatterbox back then. You used to drive your uncle Haymitch nuts. He just couldn't be around you when he was hung over."  
"I'm guessing I wasn't around him much back then." I joke.  
Dad laughs, "But you just couldn't stay away." He pauses for a moment, his expression softens, "So, do you want to talk about it?"

I avert my eyes and look ahead. We're almost at the Victor's Village where mom and Luke are waiting. "Don't worry, dad." I lie, "Everything's fine."


	3. Chapter 3

BURNING BRIGHT  
**A/N: First of all, I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed/followed/and favored this story. Thank you, it means a lot! :) Well, enjoy chapter 3 and let me know what you think~ **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games series

**Chapter 3**

The entire week flies by in a constant blur. I went hunting but mostly sat around wasting both time and space under the shade of a tree. Dad didn't ask again about my problems but I knew he had mentioned it to mom. She had been acting quite strange around me; always beating around the bush. I don't think she knew how to communicate with me.

Not since that day…

"Boo!" I'm brought out of my crazed stupor by Luke's shouting voice.

I jump back and frown instantly, "Luke!" He's hanging upside down from a tree branch right outside the Victor's Village. I had been so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't see when he wandered off.

Luke laughs, "You should have seen your face, Ivy."  
I frown and pick up his school bag from the ground, "Get down from there, monkey." I sigh. "You're gonna break something again."

Luke laughs and climbs back down landing on his feet with a soft thud. Both my brother and I have always been good at climbing. Something my mom struggled with when Luke was old enough to climb. He was always up in a branch somewhere. Dad didn't need any extra help at the bakery so I took the opportunity to walk Luke home from school. I plan on meeting Evan after dinner, however. And now that I think about it, Evan has been acting quite strange as well. Always zoning out when we talk or becoming nervous when I catch him daydreaming.

Luke and I make our way to Victor's Village. Luke quickens his pace and hurries off in the direction of Uncle Haymitch's house. "Excuse me, where are you going?" I demand grabbing him by the back of his collar and pulling him back, "You're still grounded, remember?"

Luke groans, "Uncle Haymitch said he had something for me. I won't take long."

"Its not another slingshot, is it?" I raise a brow at him.  
Luke averts his gray eyes, "No!" and squirms out of my grasp. "Just don't tell mom." And he runs off.

Don't tell mom, he says. As if it were that easy to lie to mom. "You owe me!" I call out to him as he disappears through the forbidden backyard. I reach home in no time quickly trying to make up an excuse for Luke's whereabouts. But Mom isn't home yet. She must be in town doing whatever moms do- or at least what my mom does which is, I have no idea.

I sigh in utter relief and immediately go to kitchen were dad has left a batch of blueberry muffins. He must have baked them this morning. I take one and gulf it down almost without chewing. Baked goods: my one true weakness. I head upstairs to my room and plunk down on my bed completely exhausted from my day. I had gotten up bright and early to collect my snares only to find them empty. And not to mention school dragged on longer then expected.

My eyes begin to close after a moment and I begin to dream about small little children running though the forest with Mockingjays flying above them. Always watching.

Before I know it my eyes flutter open and the delicious scent of food fills my room. I'm a bit confused and still dazed with sleep. Dinner's ready? I look to my window where the sun has set. I sit up quickly. I slept the entire day! It isn't long before there's a knock and Luke opens the door peering inside. "Dinner's ready." He says.

I notice the goose feathers in his hair and realize he's already back from Uncle Haymitch's for whatever he had for him. Probably another toy to piss off Mom. Still, I doubt Uncle Haymitch even cared about whatever window or vase Luke must have broken to get in trouble in the first place. I can imagine him drowned in his drink laughing as he pats Luke's back with a heavy hand, "You did a good job with this one, Sweetheart!" he would tell my angry mother. And come to think of it, Uncle Haymitch always roots on whatever shenanigan Luke is up to. The both of them are some kind of tag team. Dad jokes that Uncle Haymitch likes Luke way more then he ever liked my mother and him

.  
Uncle Haymitch and I have our own strange bond. We don't cook up ways to annoy my mother like he and Luke do. I go to him for advice I cannot bring myself to ask of my parents in fear of their disappointment or disapproval. Even when he's tipsy, Uncle Haymitch manages to give me somewhat decent advise, a swift joke or some kind of drunken metaphor. However, he has a tendency to mistake me for my mother when he's drunk. He'll look at me, suddenly back in the time before the rebellion, and rant on about my people skills or something about Effie Trinket. I've grown used to it.

I shake the thought away and get up following after my little brother; still feeling lost from my heavy sleep. Mom and Dad are already waiting for us at the table. They smile when they see us.  
"Finally," Luke says as he plucks down and plows right in to his stew.  
"Don't forget to breathe," Mom tells him with a soft smile.  
I take a seat across from Luke and steady myself. Even though I am starving I resist the urge to eat like a barbarian. Sorry Luke.

I can feel mom's watchful eyes on me. I know dad told her about my odd behavior a few days ago. I often wonder what she thinks of me when she looks at me. Am I a let down? Am I not what she was expecting? Or am I eating too many cheese buns again? I realize I'm stuffing my face and clear my throat and take a drink of water.

"Ivy." Mom calls my name. Oh, no. Here goes.  
"Yeah?"  
Mom sets her spoon down, "I was thinking of going in to the woods Sunday morning, would you like to come with me?"  
My eyes shoot instantly to her. Mom and I haven't been to the woods together ever since that day so many years ago. I was twelve and had an arrogant and stubborn personality about me at the time. Maybe I still do. Maybe not arrogant but stubborn, that's for sure.

_Mom and I were out in the forest hunting. Mom was a complete different person out beyond the trees. She was so quick and swift and her steps were barely audible. I on the other hand was struggling to keep up and tripping over my own feet. The day was hot and the sweat ran down my neck. I could tell mom was growing impatient. I was scarring off all the game. Even I could tell. Mom stopped under a large shady tree with an excuse to rest but I knew she wanted me to stay still long enough for the animals to let down their guards again. The thought alone irritated me. The way she never told me my faults and instead would sugar coat them with lies or excuses. _

_"Let's rest for a moment." She said giving me a soft smile.  
I hid my eyes from her not wanting her to see the anger raging with in me. I was so eager to prove myself to her that I didn't want to rest._

_"I'm not tired." I told her. _

_Mom kept her small smile, "I am." She wasn't. "You're not?" I was. But I wasn't going to admit it to her. At the age of twelve I still wanted to be like her. To hunt like her, to think like her, I wanted others to admire me like they admired her. But all that seemed to come tumbling down soon after that day. _

_Mom took a seat on a small boulder and brought out her canteen, "Ivy, baby, do you want some water?" she asked offering me the canteen before she took a drink._

_"No," I waved off her offer, "I'm not thirsty." But she knew I was lying. I was parched beyond belief and all I wanted to do was dump the canteen over my head and call it a day. Still, I was stubborn and stuck to my indifferent attitude. _

_"You should really have some water, hydrate yourself." _

_I don't know why but her suggestion made me angry and I snapped, "I'm not thirsty!"  
Mom was completely surprised by my outbreak. But I only frowned and snatched my bow, "Can we go now?"  
Mom stood to her feet, her gray eyes boring down on me with both curiosity and confusion, "Sure." She said. _

_I didn't wait for her and hurried along the trail. My tracking abilities were subpar and I was getting us off the trail. Mom knew right away. She could pick out all of my mistakes like ducks in the sky. But she remained quiet and would often make suggestions or casually lead me in the right direction. I knew what she was up to and I grew angrier by the moment. We soon found the deer's trail, well actually mom found it. It was a young buck, not too big but larger then a doe. _

_We hid behind some plants. Mom was as still as a rock but I couldn't stop shaking. I watched as the buck leaned his head down the graze on the grass in an open clearing. She looked to me and nodded. I knew my time to prove myself had come. I had to make this quick and clean. Mom always got them in the eye as so not ruin their coat. I picked up my bow and aimed my arrow. My arms began to shake and my form was way off. Mom picked up on this and knew I was going to miss. Mom lightly whispers suggestions to me but I ignore her. But I was at a boiling point. "Stop!" I snapped, letting my arrow fly out through the trees. _

_After that everything happened so quickly. The arrow shot the buck through the neck. It jumped startled and ran off. I panicked, cursed an obscenity under my breath and ran after it. _

_"Ivy!" Mom called after me. _

_But I ignored her, running through the trees, tripping over roots and splashing in the puddles. The forest was alive with the ruckus I was making. Not to mention Mom calling out after me. I ignored everything and followed the trail of blood the buck was leaving behind. I could feel all the anger and adrenaline run through me. My eyes began to fill with tears making it harder for me to see. I stumbled out in to another clearing where the buck stumbled and fell to its side. I could hear it grunting and whining in pain. It was losing a lot of blood. I stopped a mere feet before it and raised my bow to finish it off. It was then its big black eyes looked up at me. It was at that moment that I felt a cold fear overwhelm me and consume me whole. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let my arrow fly._

_"Ivy," Mom came in to the clearing. Her voice was soft. She could see the struggle in my eyes, "Its suffering, Ivy. Finish it." her voice was calm and I knew she felt pity for the animal. _

_I did too but it was something far more then pity. It was guilt. I had brought down this beautiful animal in such a horrendous way. I had caused him all the pain and fear emanating from his eyes. My hands began to shake but the rest of my body wouldn't move._

_"Ivy." Mom said my name again but I didn't respond. She sighed and brought out her bow. With one quick movement she shot the arrow through the buck's heart ending his suffering. She then looked to me. I could feel her eyes on me but all I could look at was the buck's black eyes still open. Starring back at me.  
"Ivy." Mom said again setting my bow down with her hand. I hadn't noticed that she was next to me. "It's done." She said. _

_I blinked and looked away from the buck. I felt the arrow fall to the ground and my bow slipped through my fingers. Before I knew it I was running again. I ran so fast that mom's voice faded behind me. The tears raced down my cheeks blinding my view so I couldn't see where I was going. The sun was high in the air but I didn't stop. My legs began to ache but I still didn't stop. I didn't stop when I tripped, I didn't stop when I stumbled, nor did I stop when I realized I had no idea where I was going. I kept running. Its all I wanted to do. To run. To run from my problems, my responsibilities, from the things that were expected of me. From everyone I knew._

_I didn't stop running until my legs gave out and my knees buckled below me. I fell to the grass floor of the meadow I used to play in as a child. I looked around the graveyard hidden in beauty and broke down before it. I buried my hands in my face and screamed. I cried so much, like I had never done so before. The shame began to consume me along with the guilt. I couldn't get the beast's eyes out of my mind. The way they looked at me, blaming it all on me. It was my fault. In all my years hunting with my mom I had never witnessed something as awful as that. Mom always finished them off quick and painless- so I believed. Her arrows were so fast they didn't even see death coming. But I had dragged this animal's painful suffering in to a chase across the forest. I couldn't even bring myself to finish it off. To relieve it from the pain. Mom had to because I couldn't. I was so weak. Such a failure. I had let her down. I wasn't the daughter she was expecting. I wasn't the great hunter anyone was expecting. _

_It didn't take long for mom to find me. I'm pretty sure they could hear my screams all the way to the Victor's Village. Mom stood silent by my side as she heard my stifled cries. I tried to compose myself for her but I couldn't. After a moment she finally spoke, "To watch something die before you is a horrible thing." her voice was somber, as if she was remembering something. "You never do forget the look in their eyes…" But she wasn't talking about an animal anymore. _

_"Ivy," She said my name softly and placed her hand upon my shoulder. _

_I snapped again, flinching from her touch, "Don't!" I staggered to my feet. _

_Mom was completely taken back. Her hand in mid air as she looked at me. Like she couldn't believe it was me she was looking at. My eyes filled once more with angry tears. I looked at her like she had all the blame in the world, "Don't touch me." I gritted the words through my teeth. Mom spoke my name. She took a step toward me but I took one back. I shook my head, "This is all your fault."  
"Ivy," She said in a cautious voice, "The buck, it wasn't your fault. Things happen."_

_"No!" I cried, "Its your fault I'm like this! I don't want to be like this- I-I don't want to be you!"_

_My words dropped on her like a bucket of cold water and she stopped. Her hand fell to her side. Her eyes looked deeply in to mine with confusion and something that almost resembled sadness. Maybe it was sadness but I was too angry to acknowledge it. "I'm sick and tired of everyone expecting me to be perfect like you! But I'm not you. I'm not even close." I shook my head, "And I never will be."_

_"Ivy, please don't say that." Her voice was low, almost a whisper._

_"Face it, mom. I'm not what you expected." and with those final words I stormed off. _

_This time I made my way back to District 12. I pulled my hoodie over my head to hide my disgraced face. I went through the broken gate and through the Seam. I tried to hide my tears from the people. They looked to me and then to my mom who followed behind me. But no one said anything. Mom and I walked back home in silence, all the way to the Victor's Village where dad was waiting on the porch. When he saw us he instantly knew something was wrong and stood to his feet. He must have seen the look on my mom's face. _

_"Ivy? Katniss, what's wrong?" He asked when we were in earshot. I didn't answer and instead buried myself in his strong arms. Dad held me tight and looked up at mom. She remained silent. _

_That night I was awakened by a horrible nightmare. I instantly felt guilty for the way I had treated her. Nothing I said was true. My mom had no faults. And it was definitely not her fault that people expected me to be just like her. But I was crumbling under all the pressure of trying to please her and everyone else. See, I wanted her to be proud of me, little did I know, she already was. I got up from bed and went to my parent's room. I wasn't going to be able to sleep until I apologized. _

_I stopped behind their door when I heard their voices. Mom was telling dad about what had happened in the forest._

_"I didn't expect her to finish it off…" her voice trailed. Dad waited for her to continue, "The sight of the animal would have stumped anyone."  
"Not you." Dad said.  
Mom was silent for a moment, "Peeta, you and I both know I've seen worse. You've seen worse. But Ivy hasn't. That buck suffering was the worst she's ever experienced. And I don't want her to go through that ever again. Its my fault."_

_I felt the pang of guilt slap me across the face. I wanted to burst in and fall at her feet begging for her forgiveness but I was stiff. _

_The bed moved and I could imagine dad bringing her in to his arms to comfort her, "Its not your fault, Katniss. The incident must have set her off. I'm sure she didn't mean any of it."  
"I just love her so much, Peeta. I never want her to suffer in any way."  
"I know, I know. Don't cry, Katniss. Everything's fine. Ivy's fine. She's safe and sound in her bed. Real or not real?"  
Mom was hesitant before she answered, "Real."_

_I backed away from the door and hurried back to my room where the guilt and the buck's dead eyes haunted me all night. _

I snap myself from the memory. I apologized to my mom in tears the next morning but things weren't the same after that. Mom no longer took me hunting with her and the shame continued to eat away at me. Even till this day.

"Ivy?" Mom's voice brings me back to reality.

"Uh, I-" stumble to find words. Both dad and Luke are looking at me. "Yeah." I say forcing a half smile, "Yeah, I'd love to."  
Mom smiles, "Good. We'll leave bright and early then."

"Can I go too?" Luke asks.  
"No, Luke." Dad intervenes, "You're still grounded, remember?"  
Luke groans, "I'm always grounded!"  
"Because you always misbehave!" Dad states with a chuckle.  
Mom smiles at Luke. I smile too. A small smile but a smile no less. Still, I begin to grow nervous not sure what to expect.


	4. Chapter 4

BURNING BRIGHT

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games series

**Chapter 4**

After dinner, I sneak out through my window and hurry to town where I know Evan is waiting. He sits on the fountain in the town square with his hands in his pockets. His eyes venture in to a whole different world unknown to me. He perks up when he sees me approaching.

"There you are, Mellark. I didn't think you were coming."  
"I said I would, didn't I?"  
Evan smiles, "Yeah, you did." He pats the spot next to me and I sit down. The square is almost empty but there are a few people still lingering outside of their shops or taking a stroll. Things are a lot calmer in District 12.  
"What's the matter?" he asks.

I sigh, "You wouldn't believe what just happened."  
"Tell me, maybe I'll believe it." He nudges me with a small smile.  
"My mom asked me to go hunting with her." I say. Evan perks up instantly at this completely taken back, "She what? But she hasn't since, well, you know…"  
I sigh, "I know. My dad must have talked to her. He noticed something was wrong that day after school."

I linger in to my thoughts. Mom and Dad pretty much tell each other everything. I don't think there's any secrets between them. So I'm not surprised dad told her I was feeling down and perhaps a hunting trip would lift my spirits. But mom and I haven't gone hunting together in years that I have no idea what to even expect. I lean against Evan, "What am I gonna do?"

Evan wraps an arm around me, "V, don't stress about it. It's just your mom, not President Paylor. You'll be fine."  
I look up in to his green eyes to find that familiar comfort once more. Evan can truly make any situation better. "I know, but-"  
"You don't want her to see you fail again." He states. And he always knows what I'm thinking. I don't have to speak to let him know he's right.  
"You're right. I shouldn't stress about it." He smiles, "That's the V, I know." He reaches in to his school satchel and brings out a bag and hands it to me, "Here." He says.  
"Whats this?" I look to him. Evan shrugs, "Open it."  
"Alright." I say unsure and open the bag. Instantly my eyes widen and my mouth waters, "Evan, you didn't!" He laughs, "I did." Inside the small cloth bag are a bundle of fresh plump strawberries. One of my favorites. "How do you manage to get strawberries all the time?"

Even though most of the districts were rising from poverty and food was less scarce, Strawberries were always a giant treat for me. Of course, my family could afford them but mostly for the cakes and fruit tarts Dad made. Evan always managed to smuggle a bag just for me. "I told you, my mom knows a guy." he says. "Give her my thanks then." I take a bite out of a strawberry and hand some to Evan. He takes them and we both happily eat away.

Its moments like these that I like the most. Moments with Evan as we eat strawberries under the starry night sky. I honestly don't know what I would do without Evan. We look at each other and can't help but to laugh. He's the kind of person you can share silence with, the kind of person that will laugh along with you no matter how dumb the joke is. He's that kind of person. The one that will never let you down. We're almost finished with the bag when Evan speaks, "I heard some people talking about a train coming today."

"A train?" I ask still too busy with the remanding strawberries. "Yeah, all the way from District 2."  
"What for?"  
Evan shrugs, "Don't know. Wanna check it out? It should be arriving soon, if I heard correctly."

I look up to the clock above the town square. Nine o'clock. My parents probably still haven't noticed my absence. Luke still owed me for covering him while he went to Uncle Haymitch's house after school. He better have kept his word about covering for me. "Sure." I wipe my hands on my jacket and jump to my feet.

"Help me up."  
"Geez, Evan. Don't be lazy." I yank Evan to his feet and we hurry off to the train station where sure enough a group of people are waiting for the incoming train. The last time I was on a train was when I was seven years old. We had gone to District 4 to visit my grandmother and a family friend named Annie Odair and her son Finnick. Finnick was a few years older then me, he was twelve the last time I saw him. We spent our afternoons out in the beach where he taught me how to swim in the shallow shores and make sand castles decorated with pretty shells. Our mothers sat on the beach watching us tentatively as they spoke about things we did not yet understand. I miss those days with Finnick and truly hope I can one day return.

My mind is torn from Finnick when Evan takes a hold of my hand and leads me through the crowd of curious people. His hand is warm against my cold skin and I feel my ears grow hot. "See anything?" his voice snaps me out of my daze and I look ahead where the train has come to a complete stop. People back away after the doors open. It isn't long before passengers begin to exit through the doors with luggage in their hands. I notice a few people from the merchant side of town who must have gone to other districts on some kind of business. But what Evan and I are curious about are the people arriving from District 2- not those who hopped on along the way. After a moment of familiar faces I come across one I have never seen. A man, the same age as my father but he looks a lot like my mother. Dark hair and gray eyes. He's obviously from the Seam but I have never seen him before. He stands tall and strong and very serious. In his hand he holds a suitcase. He steps aside and from behind him walks a young man that looks very much like him but with lighter skin. His son perhaps? My lips part as I realize his handsome features. His eyes scan the crowd where he meets mine. I quickly flinch at his gaze and look away.

Evan once again takes a hold of my hand and leads me out of the crowd. "I didn't realize Mr. Mavrick liked to travel." Evan says joking about Mr. Mavrick, the serious old grouch who owns the tailor shop in town.  
"Everyone needs a break from District 12 at some point." I say.  
Evan chuckles lightly, "Right. Well, that wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be."

Evan walks ahead of me as I stop to look back at the train station. The crowd of people have yet to disperse and none of the passengers have left the area either- expect for Mr. Mavrick whose hightailing it out of there. "Evan," I say grabbing his attention.  
"Hmm?" He stops to look at me, "What's wrong, V?"  
"Did you see that man?"  
"Which one?"  
I turn to him, "The tall one. The one that looks like he's from the Seam." Evan traces his memories but shakes his head, "No, I don't think I did. Why?"  
I shake my head, "No reason. I was just curious." Evan studies my expression for a moment and puts on a smile, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, "Come on, I'll walk you home."

Evan and I say our goodbyes when we reach the Victor's Village. I don't want to risk getting caught so he gives me a smile, chucks my chin softly and says goodbye. I watch him go for a moment until he disappears in the darkness. After, I hurry home. I climb the vines on the side of the house up to my room and haul myself through the window. Ivy Mellark; climbing through windows since the age of nine. My foot gets caught on the window pane and I fall to the floor with a heavy thud. "Ow…" So much for being an expert at sneaking in.

"Ivy?" I hear my dad's voice from downstairs, "Is that you?"  
"Oh, crap." I push myself off the floor and hurry to my closet to change, "Yeah, dad, its me!" I call out as I yank off my shirt over my head.  
"You alright?" his voice is closer. He's probably at the bottom of the stairs, "What was that noise?" Quick! Think of something! "I- uh, nothing, fell out of bed!"  
Nice one, V. As if my parents didn't think I was clumsy enough.

I quickly change in to my pajamas as dad comes up the stairs and knocks on my door. "Ivy, you okay sweetheart?" I open the door to see dad's concerned expression.  
"Hey dad." I put on a smile and lean against the door way to seem casual but fail horribly. Dad raises a brow and peers in my room, "You sure you're okay?"  
I nod, "Yeah, I'm fine." maybe I seem too eager because dad knows something's up. Still, he's not as quick to catch on as mom is. She would have heard me struggling to get in from downstairs. Come to think of it, she would have been the first one up here. Dad nods accepting my tiny lie, "Alright then. There's some cookies downstairs just in case you want some milk before bed."  
"Kay, thanks dad." I say. "Wait, dad?"  
He turns around, "Yeah?"  
"Where's mom?" I ask. "She's at your Uncle Haymitch's. Apparently he gave Luke another slingshot." Dad shakes his head with a sheepish smile. "Those two never learn."

"Oh." I bite my bottom lip. I wouldn't want to be Uncle Haymitch right now- or Luke for that matter. I follow Dad downstairs where he's in the family room watching a television show about wedding cakes in the Capitol. I raise a brow but accept this as normal behavior coming from my father and continue in to the kitchen where sure enough there is a plate of freshly baked cookies on the counter. I grab a few and pour myself a glass of milk and join dad on the couch.

"What's this one about?" I ask and take a bite out of a oatmeal and cranberry cookie.

Dad perks up at my question, "They have to make a cake for hundred and twenty people in less then two days." he says. There's some kind of excitement in his voice. I can't help to smile. Once a baker always a baker. "What kind of cake?"  
"Chocolate." He answers, "I would have gone for red velvet. Not everyone likes chocolate cake."  
I frown as I look to the tv screen, "Who doesn't like chocolate cake?"  
"My point exactly." He says. We continue to watch the show together pointing out small things like the decorations or shape of the cake. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Dad says shifting in his spot. I can tell he's judging the chef's choice in the color of the icing. Oh, father of mine. It is so obvious why mom fell for you. I laugh.  
"What?" he turns to me but before I can answer the front door opens and we both turn to see mom. Her face is returning to her normal color and her clenched hands begin to loosen. Uncle Haymitch must have really gotten under her skin.

Dad sits up, "Katniss, how'd it go?" Mom closes the door behind her and puts her fingers to her temple, "Same ol' Haymitch." She answers and then looks up the stairs, "And Luke?"  
"Sent him to bed early." Dad answers and pats the seat between us, "Come have a seat with us."  
Mom looks to the tv, "What are you watching?" She asks softly. I can tell she's exhausted. "Wedding cakes." I answer, "Come watch."

Mom smiles softly and takes a seat between dad and I. From the corner of my eye, I see as dad places his hand over mom's and their fingers intertwine perfectly around each other. They truly are meant for each other. Suddenly, Evan comes to mind; the feeling of our hands pressed together. I quickly tear my eyes from my parent's hands and my ears go boiling hot. What in the world am I thinking?


	5. Chapter 5

BURNING BRIGHT

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games series

**CHAPTER 5**

I rush out of the house bright and early before the sun touches the sky. I can hear the birds begin to stir and the sky is lit a dim blue. I make my way out of the Victor's Village with my game bag over my shoulder. I want to practice my shooting before breakfast. Quickly before anyone can see me, I make my way through the broken gate and disappear in to the forest. My bow is still in its hiding spot where I always leave it. After that day with mom I keep my bow hidden in a different tree. However, it took me a long time to gather the courage to come back to the forest.

I make my way silently through the trees. I don't plan on hunting anything just yet but I enjoy the sounds of the uninterrupted wilderness. It doesn't take me long to get to the usual clearing where I practice my shooting. I walk to the large tree at the end of the clearing and bring out the a target board I made from junk I found in Uncle Haymitch's backyard. I hang it on the tree and pick my bow back up making my way across the clearing about thirty or so yards away. I pull an arrow out of my quiver and position it on my bow. Instantly I'm filled with an exhilarating rush of excitement as well as a strange sense of calm. I have never been good at anything in my life (well, besides doodling and climbing trees). And I know I'm not very good with a bow but every single time I let an arrow fly I feel a kind of freedom I have never felt anywhere else. For mom, a bow and arrow meant survival. For me, it's a form of escape. A sweet escape.

I pull the string to the side of my cheek and breathe slowly finding my target around the poorly red painted circles on my target board. I release the string and let the arrow fly. It flies quickly through the air and shoots straight to the board missing my target. I sigh and retrieve another arrow from the quiver, "Come on," I tell myself, "You can do this." I position my arrow in the direction I want it to go and let it fly. This time it hits the right spot. I bring out another arrow and another until I'm out. They all shoot through the air missing almost all the points I aim for. I walk to the target board and look at every individual arrow. There's six of them. At least they made it to their target. Last year, I had shot an arrow that missed the tree by at least five inches and shot in to the woods pinning a squirrel in the process. Evan and I stood there before the dead squirrel's body pinned to the tree for about a good thirty minutes not believing what had just happened. Call it luck if you will but I felt like the universe was mocking me in a strange way. Anyway, I had something to show for that day but Evan could not stop laughing.

I collect my arrows and walk back to my spot where I continue to practice. The sun is up above me by the time I feel my fingers and muscles go sore. I've been at it longer then I thought. My target practice is barely recognizable by now. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and collect my arrows. I hide the almost destroyed target board between some bushes and leave the clearing. I make my way silently through the forest walking over fallen tree trunks and along the path I have become so familiar with. A few mockingjays rest in the trees above me. I have never tried to sing for them.

I come to a complete stop when I hear the rustle of leaves ahead of me. Silently I hurry behind a low thick branch to spy a doe grazing. I quickly but quietly reach for my quiver and retrieve an arrow. Carefully placing it on my bow and slowly pull the string. The doe is completely unaware of my presence as I aim for its eye. Suddenly, my hands begin to shake and my heart exhilarates. No, not again. The buck's black eyes rush to my mind again and I freeze completely_. Let go, let go!_ I yell at myself but I'm completely frozen.

All those feelings from that day begin to resurface and I instantly know I have failed. I lower my bow and take a step back. The doe hears the leaves crunching underneath my boots and runs off. I stand there watching it go unable to recognize the feeling that is overwhelming me. I stumble back sitting on a stump. The bow and arrow drop to my feet and my hands clench in to fists. Why couldn't I do it? Its been almost four years since that day. I should be able to by now. But I couldn't. I couldn't do it again.

And before I know it I begin to panic. I think of mom and dad and their reaction to my failure. I think of Luke and what I would do if mom and dad weren't around for us. How would I be able to provide for him if I can't even bring down a small deer? I shake my head reminding myself that there's no reason to freak out. Mom and dad are with us. We're safe. District 12 isn't the place it used to be. Panem isn't the place it used to be. I don't have to hunt for survival like mom did when my grandfather died. But I still can't help to feel inept. I remind myself to breathe. I tell myself I'm over reacting. I couldn't shoot a deer, so what? It's not the end of the world.

I make my way in to the Victor's Village feeling like a failure. I'm going hunting with mom tomorrow for the first time in years. I should be happy but instead I'm an absolute mess. And without realizing it I have found myself in front of Uncle Haymitch's house. It must have been 10 in the morning or so. I knock on the front door but there's no response.

"Uncle Haymitch, its me!" I knock again but no answer. Oh, he's home all right. He's probably passed out drunk somewhere in this mess called a home. I go around the side of the house where I find the window. Carefully I crack it open and instantly the stuffy air hits my face. "Oh, come on." I grimace at the smell and heave myself up the window and inside. I accidentally kick dirty dishes that overflow the sink and land on trash and empty bottles. Its dark and I cover my nose. I should be used to this by now.

"Oh, Haymitch." I call out in a soft tune, "You in here?" I kick trash out of the way and trip over something heavy. I catch myself before I fall and look to the floor. And sure enough there he is; Uncle Haymitch in all his drunk passed out glory. He still holds a bottle of liquor in his hand. I walk over to the light and turn it on revealing the tornado that flew by here. I sigh and kick his side gently, "Uncle, wake up. I need to talk with you."

Silence.

"Uncle." I grab his shoulder and shake him but to no avail. He's out like a rock. I look around the kitchen contemplating what I could do to wake him. Once when Luke and I were younger we herded his flock of geese in to his living room where he was passed out on the couch. Needless to say, he woke up. But I'm not going to mess with those geese this time. So instead I walk to the sink where I pour water in to an empty jug. I've seen mom do this before. Once or twice, actually. I walk back to where Uncle Haymitch is sprawled on the floor and dump the water on him and quickly back away.

Uncle Haymitch jumps upward as the water shocks him awake, the bottle almost tips over in his hands. With his other he brings out his knife and slashes the air. It takes him a moment to compose himself and see me.

"Whoa, Sweetheart, what's with the third degree?" he slurs. Oh no. He thinks I'm Mom again. "Listen," he continues on finding his balance and putting away his knife, "You'll do good to follow that boy. He's got the people skills you lack."

I raise my brow and place my hands on my hips not sure if I should correct him or let him continue his drunken ramble. "You don't get the goods unless you give _him_ the goods." He's clearly back in the 74th Hunger Games. I open my lips to speak but I'm not sure what to respond to what he just said. He takes another swing from his drink and burps. I make a face. I honestly don't know how my parents survived with him as their mentor.

"Are you done?" I ask.  
He groans, "Let me wake up at least." he then stops and looks at himself, "Why am I wet?" He should be extremely familiar with this by now.

"Uncle, its me, Ivy." I say.  
He looks up at me perplexed. He blinks utterly baffled and suddenly remembers where he is and who I am, "Geezus, kid, you look so much like your mother it's scary."  
I frown lightly, "Gee. Thanks."  
"You two should wear name tags or something." he walks to the table and sits down. I frown at this, "If you were sober you could tell us apart." I walk to the end of the table and cross my arms. Uncle Haymitch registers my words and presses his lips together in deep thought. But he waves away my words as if they are something unthinkable.

"Well then, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Your brother didn't let the geese out again, did he?" Again? I wasn't even aware there was a first.  
"No," I say, "I want your advise on something." He takes another drink from the bottle and wipes his lips, "Let me guess, its about the little baker boy."  
"Baker boy?" I'm taken back by his comment.  
"Yeah, yeah." He waves his hand, "The one you hang around all the time. The pudgy one."

I frown when I know whom he's talking about. Once again Uncle Haymitch has traveled to the past. "Evan. And he's not pudgy anymore- he's quite fit now, actually- wait no, I'm not talking about him! Wait, what about him?"  
Uncle Haymitch leans closer, a wry smile presses against his lips and he raises the tip of the bottle at me, "You want some relationship advise, right? How to make a move on this boy?"  
My face and ears suddenly go boiling hot at what he had just said, "What?"  
"I don't know what it is about you and your mother with bakers." he rambles on. "But I'll tell you what-"  
"No!" I stop him before he can continue, "I'm not here for relationship advise!"  
He looks at me a little confused but brushes it off quickly, "Ok, but you don't have to yell, kid." he rubs his temples.

I sigh. This isn't about Evan. I don't even know where he got that insane idea from. My ears are still ringing hot and I know my cheeks are still covered in a fading red shade. I move the trash from the empty chair and take a seat, "This isn't about boys."  
"Good." he says, "Stay away from them."  
I frown at him, "You were just giving me relationship advice!"  
"Lower your voice, will ya? I swear its like your mother is howling at me all over again." He closes his eyes and continues to massage his temples. "Now what is it that you wanted?"

I sigh not sure how to continue. I'm not even sure myself why I came here. I guess I just needed to hear the blunt truth. I am tired of everyone sugar coating everything for me. "I'm never going to be as good as her, am I?" the words find their way out. Uncle Haymitch stops rubbing his aching temples and looks at me as if he suddenly sobered up. Even I am surprised at my own words.

He sits up slightly and his face turns serious, "Listen kid," he begins, "I know you carry a huge burden on your shoulders. Living with celebrity parents and what not. Specially that mother of yours…" he pauses for a moment, "I know everyone expects you to live up to her and yadda yadda but you got to stop worrying about that, kiddo and live your own life. If the Capitol ever finds a way to revert to its old sick glory then we'll give you a call." he half jokes.

I find myself smiling at this, "Thanks Uncle."  
"Don't thank me, kid." he raises his bottle, "Its what I'm here for."

I leave Uncle Haymitch's house feeling better then when I first arrived. He somehow had a way of making me feel better. I don't want to go home so I make my way in to town to catch up with dad at the bakery. He must be there by now and since its Saturday he might need help.

I hurry to the bakery but before I reach the door I bump in to something sturdy and fall backward. A hand grasps my arm and pulls me back before I fall. "You okay?"

I look up to the source of the voice and find myself face to face with a pair of gray Seam eyes. It takes me a moment to recognize them. It's the boy from the train station. The one from District 2. I stutter, "I, uh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He says. Up close he is much taller and much more handsome then I was first lead to believe. His hair is a lush dark brown almost black and he has a face that would make any girl in District 12 swoon. I feel my cheeks grow hot when I realize I'm starring and quickly look away. Its then the bell's from the bakery door ring and I look to see the man that was with him. The one that reminded me of my mother in a strange way.

"Come on, Silas, let's go." He tells the boy before me. His face is stone serious and rigid as if he just had a disagreement with someone.

The boy who I now know is named Silas turns to me. His lips press in a half formed smile, "Nice meeting you." He says and walked after the man. I stand there watching them go for a moment until they disappear in the direction of the Seam.

I turn around to the door where the "Closed" sign is. "That was weird." I say to myself and go in to the bakery. And sure enough the bakery is empty. The smell of fresh baked bread is fading in to the air. I see dad standing behind the counter. His hands are placed upon the counter gripping it tightly. His eyes are boring down against it intensely as if he's having another one of his flashbacks. But this one's different. Its as if someone poured a bucket of cold water on him and he's regaining himself from the shock.

"Dad?" I say softly breaking the silence, "What's wrong?"

Dad's eyes look up at me and I swear I have never seen them so afraid.


	6. Chapter 6

BURNING BRIGHT

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hunger Games series

**CHAPTER 6**

"Dad?" I say no longer able to take the silence. Dad looks back down to the counter and takes his hand off of it.  
He tries to compose himself before he finally speaks but I can see him struggling, "Ivy, why aren't you at home?" his voice is shaky and I can hear traces of anger in it.  
"I thought you might need some help…where's Evan?" I look around noticing he's not there. He usually is.

Dad pushes away from the counter and walks to me placing his hands upon my shoulders, "Don't worry, Ivy, I'm fine. You can go home now." I look in to my father's blue eyes. I have never seen them this way. The flash of anger is soon fading but its strange seeing it there in the first place. He says he's fine but he's not.  
"Are you sure?" I ask, "Who was that man? What he want?" Dad presses his lips together for a moment and lets his eyes fall to the ground, "Ah, don't worry about it, sweetheart, it was nothing."  
"Didn't look like nothing." I retort with a frown. But dad smiles and caresses my cheek softly, "Ivy, its fine. Go on home now."

I sigh, defeated. "Okay." I don't want to keep pestering him any longer. He seems to have a lot on his plate already. Still, I can't help to worry. "I'll be home." I turn to the door but before I leave dad calls my name and I turn to him. He thinks about what he's going to say and lands his eyes upon me, "Ivy, please don't tell your mother." He needs to say no more. I nod and head out of the bakery.

It's strange. Mom and dad never keep anything from each other. That man, whoever he is, must be either pretty important to cause such a reaction in my father. Especially to the point where he wants me to lie to mom. I feel like this won't be the end of that subject. I'm almost at the Victor's Village when I bump in to Evan. "There you are." he says when he sees me. "I was looking for you."

"I was just at the bakery." I say. "Yeah, your dad let me off early today. It was weird. He closed the shop and everything."  
"I know," I answer, "You know why?"  
"Beats me. Some man came in and your dad got weird. He told me to take the rest of the day off. I came to find you but Luke said you were in the woods hunting ghosts." He chuckled.  
I frowned, "Dang it, Luke. I wasn't hunting ghosts."  
Evan chuckled again, "I know." He then sees my concerned expression and nudges me softly, "Come on, my mom brought more strawberries. Let's go eat 'em all."  
This brings a smile to my face, "Sounds good to me."

The entire house is quiet when I arrive from Evan's house that night. We spent the entire day talking about nonsense and eating strawberries on his porch. His mom made us lemonade and triangle sandwiches. I find Luke in the family room watching tv. He's sprawled on the couch in a lazy bored manor. "Hey," I say walking in to the living room, "Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" Luke doesn't bother to sit up or tear his eyes from the screen, "Yeah, but dad said I could."  
I look around but don't see him, "Where's he and mom?" I ask.  
Luke shrugs, "Upstairs in their room talking." He looks at me when he says this, "With the door closed."  
I frown instantly. I know mom and dad are secretive about their personal business but to the point to distract Luke with television so they could talk? That seems unlike them.

"Well, okay. I'm going to bed."  
"Dad said your dinner's in the kitchen if you're hungry."  
Its then I realize that I'm starving, "Well now that I think about it, I am pretty hungry after hunting ghosts all day." I say and smack Luke's head on my way to the kitchen.  
"Hey!" he whines but settles back down rubbing the back of his head. I didn't even hit him that hard.

I find my dinner on the counter. It's still warm. I sit on the kitchen island and eat silently. All the while I look in the direction of the stairs where my parents are locked in their room. I'm sure dad must be telling mom about the man that visited him in the bakery. He never keeps anything from her. I guess he wanted to be the one to tell her. But I can't figure out why it must be so important that they don't want us to hear what they're talking about. The last time they locked themselves in their room was to discuss letting Luke have a pet. Of course, mom said no. Moms not really the one for pets. I don't think she ever was. We used to have a cat, Buttercup, well, it belonged to aunt Prim but he passed a few years ago. Mom was actually devastated even if she didn't want to show it. He was the last thing she had left of Prim. Well, he and the flowers that always grow outside our home.

After I wash my plate I head upstairs. I look down the hall in the direction of my parent's room. I can't help but eavesdrop so I quietly tip toe to their room and press my ear against the closed door. Its silent for a moment but then I hear dad's muffled voice in a soft low whisper. Mom's follows in a harsher tone. Whatever is going on Mom isn't very happy about it. I can't make out what they're saying so I press myself closer to the door. I can barely hear a name being spoken: Gale.

Gale? I'm not familiar with the name for it has never been spoken in my home before. But I'm pretty sure it must be the man from the bakery. Its then the door opens and I almost trip inside. "Ivy?" Dad's surprised to see me.  
I stand up straight and pretend like I wasn't eavesdropping on them, "Dad!" But I sound more surprised then he is. I quickly compose myself looking for a quick excuse, "I- I came to say goodnight." I look in to the room where my mom is standing next to her side of the bed. Her arms are crossed and she's having a tough time keeping her straight expression. "Is everything okay?" I ask softly looking from mom to him.

Dad sighs and gives me a faint smile, "Everything's fine. Go on and rest."  
I nod, "Night dad…night mom."  
Mom looks up at me and musters a reassuring smile, "Goodnight, little bird."

And without another word I leave. Dad closes the door hiding away all their secrets. I head to my room where I grab some clean pajamas and take a long hot shower. I've been up since the crack of dawn and have to be up bright and early to go hunting with mom. That's right, for the first time in a long time we'll be in the woods together.

However, that night I get no rest what so ever. Almost instantly after I close my eyes I am awaken by my mother's night terrors. Her screams of fear and pain break the silence of the night. I sit up startled and confused in my bed. I hear her scream my name, followed by my brother's, my father's and my aunt Prim's. My dad's voice comes soon after waking her from her horrid prison. It's just a dream, another horrible dream, I tell myself. She's fine. She'll be okay. She'll get through this. She's done it a thousand times. I try to reassure myself that my mom will be fine. But I feel helpless. I still feel like that little girl standing in the corner of the room completely horrified by what was happening to the person I loved most in the world. To the person who was supposed to save me. I felt helpless because I did not know how to save her. I still don't.

I can feel the tears swelling in my eyes threatening to break free. I hate hearing her suffer so much. I remember when I was little I did not understand why these things happened to her. Why she woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Why her nightmares would just not go away. They tried to explain to me as I got older why these things happened, why they couldn't control them, why I shouldn't be afraid. But I was very afraid. Looking in to my mother's horror struck eyes filled me with such an intense fear that I myself wanted to wake from the nightmare she was in. Dad picked me up from the corner where I was hiding and placed me in my mother's arms. She would cradle me against her and hold me tight. I could feel her calm down little by little as if my mere presence could calm the rage building inside. And she'd kiss my head and my cheeks over and over.

"Ivy is safe. Real or not real?" Dad asked in the darkness. My mom looked down at my little face, brushed my cheek and answered, "Real."

But I'm not a little girl anymore. I can't cradle myself in her arms and hope to save her. I feel helpless. Useless. I can't do anything.

"Ivy?" A voice breaks me free of my self pity as I turn to my door to find him standing there. "Luke." I say surprised to see him. His blond hair is messy from sleep but the expression on his face explains it all. Its been years since Luke wandered in to my room after my mom's screams woke him. We were both scared, too scared to do anything. He must have been eight or nine when he declared himself brave enough to fight this on his own. But neither of us could stand it for long. "What's wrong?"

His hand is on the doorknob and he looks away, "I can't sleep…"  
I sigh, "Climb in." I scoot over making a spot for him in my bed. Luke closes the door behind him and climbs in to bed next to me. His cheeks are red with embarrassment as if his friends would find out. "Thanks." he whispers.  
"No problem." We lay in the dark hearing mom's screams come to a halt and turn in to soft cries and whispers. We can hear dad's voice barely audible as he tries to calm her. "I hate it when she cries…" Luke speaks breaking the silence between us. He faces the door, his back to me. "I don't like to hear her suffer."  
I softly ruffle his messy blond hair, "I don't either."  
"Will they ever stop?"  
"I don't know," I say, "Maybe not."  
I feel his body tense, "I wish they would…"  
"Luke," I begin to speak but know my words may not help him.

This is a battle mom has been fighting for years but she manages. Its those moments of vulnerability where she dreams of us being torn from her side that break her. She's never wanted to tell me what the dreams are about but I've heard her tell dad a few times. Eavesdropping from behind the door, I heard her tell him how she dreamt that the horrid mutts from the arena came in to mine and Luke's beds and attacked us while we slept. There was blood everywhere. Another time she had a dream where my five-year-old self was running through the arena of the games crying for her. I was hurt and starved. There were careers chasing me. All she could do was watch behind a television screen and watch as they killed me. She cried to dad that it was unfair because I was just a baby, not even old enough to be reaped. But there I was.

Dreams of Jabberjays screaming with our voices drowning in pure agony, dreams of hovercrafts picking us up from the ground and taking us away, dreams of monsters tearing us to pieces. And of course, the worst of all, President Snow with his snake eyes tightening his grip on our necks as blood dripped upon our skin. Everything was too unbearable to hear. But they're nothing but dreams. It's not real.

"Mom's very strong," I end up saying, "She'll get through this." Luke only nods.

Before we know it the house is once again silent. "Ivy." Luke speaks breaking the silence. "Yeah?" He pauses for a moment, "Does mom dream about the bombs?" His question takes me off guard and I sit up on my elbow, "The bombs?"  
He turns around and sets his eyes on me, "Yeah. The ones that killed aunt Prim." That's right. She did cry her name this time.

My eyes wander to the door, where down the hall my mom is silently crying in my father's arms. Had she been dreaming of the bombs? The ones that stole her sister's life. The ones that destroyed her district. The ones that killed so many people. I had never thought about it. I look back to Luke, "I don't know, Luke. Why do you ask?"  
He shrugs, "I don't know." and looks away.  
I grab his attention, "Do you dream about the bombs?"  
Luke looks down for a moment. "Sometimes." He answers.

I instantly feel horrible when he says this. Luke, he's still so little. He has no reason to dream of these things. But he does and it's clear that they haunt them. And now I understand why that boy's comment about the bombs angered him so much. "You wanna tell me about them?" I ask. Luke is silent for a moment. I know he's embarrassed to talk about things like this. He's a brave kid and doesn't like to show any weakness. But he has nothing to be ashamed of.  
After a moment he finally speaks, "I dreamt that the bombs took mom too. That day in the Capitol when aunt Prim died." his voice is low. I can feel myself tense up. Oh, Luke. "I also dream that they drop bombs on District 12 again when we're walking home from school. But its mostly about mom and the bombs..."

I do what mom does to comfort him and brush his hair out of his face, "Luke. Real or not real?"  
Luke covers his face with his hands and groans, "Not you too!"  
I laugh lightly, "Come on, real or not real?" He relaxes and lets his hands fall from his face. "Mom took down the Capitol and now Paylor is president. Real or not real?"  
"Real." He answers.  
"There has been no wars or bombs since then. Real or not real?"  
"Real." He says.  
"We're safe and sound with mom and dad. Real or not real?"  
"Real."  
I smile, "See? There's nothing to be scared of, Luke. Evil President Snow is dead, the districts are at peace and there is no war. Bombs aren't going to drop any time soon."

"How do you know?" Luke props himself up. His eyes are filled with concern. I sigh, "I just do, ok? Mom and dad will never let anything bad ever happen to us. We're safe. Besides," I smile, "Mom's the Mockingjay, she can pretty much do it all."  
This seems to calm Luke down and he smiles, "Yeah, huh."  
"Yeah." I say, "Now go to sleep before dad comes and scolds us for being up this late." "Kay." he says and lays back down. "Ivy?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Thanks." I smile at my little brother. True, he can be a pest but I'd do anything for him. If the Games were still around I'd volunteer just to keep him safe in the arena. Hell, I'd even fight the Capitol or anyone else if it ever came down to it…

"No problem."

After Luke falls fast asleep I begin to drift in to my own nightmares of bombs and mutts. And of course, the Games.


End file.
